MOMics

By Elizabeth Cabral

"Mom? Mommy, where are my socks?" my youngest son screamed out in the midst of our rushed morning routine. "They are on your feet!" With only ten minutes left to spare to get my three little gentlemen to school on time, I stood in front of the coffee maker, hoping if I stared at it hard enough, my coffee would brew faster. Here's my dose of reality: I could save an entire three minutes if I forego the bra and throw on a baggy sweatshirt on over my pajama top. Then I would have an extra three minutes to get my morning coffee. MOMics is a true story of survival from one day to the next. In our modern times of reality, MOMics is a tell-all account of real life moments between mother and child from the mother's perspective.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644621158

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MOMics

Elizabeth Cabral

Copyright © 2018 Elizabeth Cabral

All rights reserved

First Edition

PAGE PUBLISHING, INC.

New York, NY

First originally published by Page Publishing, Inc. 2018

ISBN 978-1-64462-114-1 (Paperback)

ISBN 978-1-64462-115-8 (Digital)

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

I Swallowed a Watermelon Seed… or Two!

The Balance

Sleepless (and Heatless) in the Bay

A Grain of Salt… Or a Mountain of It

This Was Not the Body He Married

What to REALLY Expect

When in Doubt… Just Flush It

Let’s Do Lunch!

Tomato, TA-matoe

Let’s continue… Shall We?

Sick Day?

Feeling Defeated… Even Broken

Cursing (All Kids Try!)

The Writing on the Walls (Literally)

Glamazon —RuPaul

Multitasking

Do NOT Disturb???????

Keeping It REAL… Honest

You Don’t Just Date Me!

Mom, Why Do You Sit to Pee?

Children Have Problems Too

Drowning in Personality

Where Do They Come Up with This Stuff?

Mom! It Feels Creepy!

The Ever-Changing BANDWAGON

Tech-LIFE

Take 5!

Dedications

This is for my mom, Theresa, my angel. You gave me my first journal and it was all about writing ever since. Thank you for your strength and sense of humor. For my sister Monica, you are the sugar to my cake and the balance in my life. For my little gentlemen Felix, Mateo, and Nathaniel, the three of you saved me and helped me mature and grow in the most extraordinary way possible. To my newest baby girls Molly and Sophie. Thank you for accepting me into your lives and don’t forget to press the red button. For my honey, my best friend, my lover, my husband, Gabriel, thank you for continuing to encourage me daily and for your unconditional love and acceptance; LAVA! To my primas and my primos, and my ever-growing family full of godchildren, nieces and nephews. For my Goncha, keep rockin’ and shout out to my cousin Chris in Fremont, California!

Here is, in my opinion, some reality: The mom is the boss, and a real mom doesn’t ever have time to brag about it. In fact, I would love nothing more than to post endless pictures on social media of the great work I do every minute of every day, and I would love to post selfies of myself all dressed up and well put together, posing with my stylish little gentlemen, giving the impression that This mom has it all together, but that’s never going to happen. I would love to snap photos of the wholesome, nutritious dinners I cook and slave over and show the adorable organic lunches I pack, but reality is, maybe tomorrow…… Side note—I’m still waiting for Tomorrow to knock on my door.

Mothers like me handle each and every detail, even when we don’t want to. We have no choice but to handle it all because we carry the lives of our children until they spread their wings and fly away. So that means I put myself on the back burner. I put my little gentlemen and their needs miles before mine. Most days, I’m lucky to comb my hair. It’s easier to simply throw it up and use a clip. Whenever I manage to get a few extra minutes, I’m surely not using it to apply my makeup. Instead, I use those extra thirty minutes to get my mind right for that particular day. I must mentally prepare myself for their moods (whatever they may be) on any particular day. In one single morning, they may change their clothes four times, want to cook their own breakfast, and sometimes have to finish homework they forgot about. No matter how organized I think I am, it can all get thrown off in a blink of an eye.

I have been admitted into the hospital three times over the past few weeks, not including emergency room visits, and in those few weeks, I realized the movies and television are liars! Okay, I realized this a while ago, but I lost all hope for the truth to come from the movies or television at this point. I have a point to all this, stay with me.

In movies and sitcoms, if the mom is in the hospital or ill, the house is always clean, and if it’s not, it gets done in a two-and-a-half-minute commercial break. You never see a buildup of dust or soap scum; never sticky floors or a sink full of dishes. The husband (if there is one) is always supportive in some way. The mother-in-law not only takes the kids for days on end, but will even cook all your meals after she puts the laundry away. The mom is able to recover in a spotless environment with her only worry being missing her Thursday night wine club meeting.

Here is what I came home to: Picture this, if you will. My sister was driving me home from the hospital through my cute and simple neighborhood. I like my ’hood, I do. It’s nice and I actually talk to my neighbors. We have these special little bonds and relationships. My sons play with their kids, and if I need sugar, I can actually get some from my neighbor and I’m always willing to babysit for them when I can. Although it is a safe and comfortable place to live, it’s 2017, hell no, I’m not leaving a window cracked. So of course, I expected my house to be dusty and stuffy.

I unlock and open my large dark-wood-with-iron-accents of a front door. A medieval touch to my home. I walk up the one stair and sigh a huge sigh of relief, happy to finally be home after three days in the hospital. My sigh of relief quickly becomes a nauseated cough coupled with a stank face as I take a huge whiff of my stuffy-dog-scented home. The drapes were all pulled closed, not a single light was on as Marley, the family’s ‘Jack-Chi’ was weeping with joy, jumping on my leg, thrilled to see me. And although the house is dark, I see my son’s dirty pajamas from a few days ago still lying across the couch. Their cereal bowls, collecting dust, appeared to once have had milk in them, but now had cheese sitting at the bottom of them. The dishes in the sink hadn’t moved and every speck of dust, lint and pet hair was still where it was prior to my emergency room visit that turned into a three-day stay.

I am a divorced, single mother of three, so there’s no husband or live-in boyfriend to look after the home when I can’t. My now ex-mother-in-law was great taking care of my three little gentlemen, but let’s be honest for a minute, shall we? She’s not twenty-five years young, and my little gent’s require a lot of her energy, plus it’s not her job to help me clean my house. Her loyalty is to my sons and her son, not his ex-wife, and that’s it. Still, I’m pretty spoiled with her and appreciate all her help. Both my parents are passed on so, my mother won’t be coming by any time soon to fold my laundry.

Here’s my point (finally, right?): If I’m not home to do it, whatever it may be, it doesn’t get done. While I was on my extended vacation in the hospital the world kept turning and I wasn’t able to keep up with it. And that’s reality! Of course, I have a huge family complete with older siblings and everything—I’m the baby! I also have a great support with my friends. In a perfect world, my family and friends would all come together and clean my house, stock my fridge and wash my dog, so I can rest as instructed by my doctors. But here’s some more reality: every single one of them work a full time job and have a husband or wife or significant other, and 89.9 percent of them have children of their own. And even though they do offer, I know they are simply offering to be polite but really don’t have the extra time in their day to do things for me or my household. And it’s perfectly acceptable in my book. I’m just giving y’all a dose of reality, settle in, here comes some more!

I Swallowed a Watermelon